


The Violinist at the Bookstore

by thewallflower07



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Cat Cafés, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Crush at First Sight, John Watson is Perfect, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Parental Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock Plays the Violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:36:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewallflower07/pseuds/thewallflower07
Summary: After years of living on the streets of London and drugged out of his mind, Sherlock Holmes is finally starting to begin his new life. Mrs. Hudson has introduced him to the magic of a bookstore, a place where true love is imaginable and adventures are only a few pages away.When Sherlock meets a friendly young man on the 23rd of December and invites him to their traditional Trivia Game Night, the stories from the books seem suddenly much closer to reality than Sherlock ever expected.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 101





	The Violinist at the Bookstore

A bookstore is a magical place. You wander in either with a specific purpose or for just for book browsing. The shelves, if white, brown or black, if old, expensive or new, are filled with hundreds of new worlds. Whether it is s snowing, raining or (less often in London) the sun is shining, a good bookshop will make you forget what is happening outside. So, when you are leaving a few minutes or even a few hours later, you will be blinking confused to the darkened sky. Hopefully, you will be clutching a bag in your hands, because leaving a bookstore without a purchase is a tragedy on a Shakespearean level.

  
At Christmas Time, many people are thankfully still resorting to gifting the greatest present of all time. Therefore, bookstores are often packed with shoppers all through December.

  
London is famous for it’s many old and beautiful bookstores and Reichenbach Shop is only one of them. The shop is situated at 222 Baker Street, with Mrs. Hudson living right next to it. Mrs. Hudson used to travel to Switzerland as a child, and wandered with her families through the gorgeous landscapes. The name Reichenbach stuck with her, for some reason, and so she named her lifework after it.  
Like most bookstores these days, Reichenbach also has a small café at the front of it. Many neighbours pop in early in the morning to get their fresh cup of coffee and a scone. That is why this part of the store is simply called Speedy’s. There is a small checkout to the left of the entrance and on the right side are six tables with two chairs each crammed into the corner. Speedy’s not only offers coffee, but also hot chocolate, ten different tea categories, muffins, cake and more. Apart from the coffee, there is also a corner with one cosy armchair and several large pillows, inviting people for a quick read before deciding on whether to buy the book or not.

  
In Reichenbach, you can find the newest swooning Young-Adult romance between the chosen one and her rude boyfriend, cute picture books for children, the grittiest Fantasy novels with epic battles and talking dragons, nail-biting crime novels, some cookbooks and travel maps, old classics, an extra selection for queer novels and female authors and also, the newest addition, a slowly growing variety of books student require for university. There is of course also a small corner for notebooks, bookmarks, postcards and totes bags.  
In short, Reichenbach is absolutely stuffed with books from the floor to the ceiling and no one who works there would prefer it any other way. Apart from the workers, there are also two cats living there. At day, they rest delicately in the bookshop, at night they run around 221. Catharine of Aragorn is a 7-year-old Norwegian Forest Cat with long grey fur, while Anne Boleyn is 2 years old and a red British Shorthair tabby. Both cats are confident, stylish and sleep a lot.

  
There is of course Mrs. Martha Hudson, the proud owner of the store, bookworm and baking enthusiast. After her return from Florida, about 30 years ago, she used the money she got from the divorce to buy the house (back then, central London was still somewhat affordable) and uses it for the store and the café, her flat and a flat above to rent it to tenants. She is in her mid-sixties, loves to dye her hair and gossip about the neighbours. She used to be a dancer and sometimes, during cleaning, you can still catch her showing off her exotic dancing. Most of the time in the store, she provides the customers with hot beverages, cookies, muffins and sometimes pizza. Mrs. Hudson loves to read cookbooks, especially the grand volume by Julia Child and also all the classics, favouring Jane Austen.

  
One of her two employees is Molly Hooper, a 21-year-old medical student. She has long, brown hair and always wears jeans and sweatshirts. Molly has moved to London to start university and first stumbled into the bookshop on a rainy December afternoon. It was only her and Mrs. Hudson at that time. Molly was offered a cup of tea after 5 minutes and a job after one hour. Sometimes, things just fall into place.  
Molly likes romantic romances like _Bridget Jones Diary_ , but also crime novels and thrillers like _Sharp Objects_ by Gillian Flynn. She also used to like her only male colleague very much, but after finding out that he is gay and that they both work much better as friends anyway, she dropped it. She likes cats, especially her cat Toby. Molly likes watching Glee on her laptop and cutting up corpses.

  
The other employee at Reichenbach is Sherlock Holmes, although he is not exactly an ordinary employee. He is also 21 years old, and he has been in love with bookstores when he was six, since the day he first stepped into the small local store in Sussex, accompanied by his mother. His mother had read out to him every evening, so Sherlock’s mind would calm down and let him go to sleep. On long rides, they would listen to audio plays, telling tales of Hobbits and dragons. Sherlock grew up with stories, and they filled his head with miracles.

Two years later, his older Mycroft drowned in a high wave in the sea.

Ten years later, Sherlock first injected heroin into his veins. He still managed to graduate schools with good grades, thanks to his intelligence, but somehow, finding a job and his own flat ended up being not as important as the drugs.

Fifteen months ago, he broke into an old bookstore in a vacant street. He nearly overdosed on the orange sofa (Mrs. Hudson has thrown the piece of furniture out after that), and the shop owner found him in the morning.

Sherlock survived the overdose, somehow got through the painful experience of rehab, and found himself on the doorstep of the intriguing bookstore. He planned to apologize to the kind old lady with the purple coat who called the ambulance on him, and then find his old dealer and overdose for real this time. Explode in a sea of glory and pain. Drown in ecstasy.

The old lady introduced herself properly, and Sherlock quickly found himself inside the store, with a cup of tea in one hand and a vanilla muffin in the other. Mrs. Hudson prattled on about her dead husband, Florida, and how much she needed a second part-time employee as she is only getting older, but could not afford one.  
One hour later, Sherlock was offered a couch that could be fashioned into a bed, two drawers and a third of the bathroom closet. Mrs. Hudson offered him a place to sleep, her food and a safe space in exchange for a few hours every day working at her bookstore.  
This exchange however, was much more than a warm blanket and a full stomach. Thanks to Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock received a home, and a reason to stay clean. Furthermore, he now has the possibility to snuggle up in the evening and relax with a book. Not since his early childhood — before his brother drowned and his parents disappeared behind a veil of grief — had he known such tranquillity.

  
In the store, Sherlock has proven himself to be quite the worthy employee. Upon seeing a customer, he instantly knows what the person is searching for, thanks to his helpful deductions. He is taller than the women, with dark curls roaming wildly on his head. Outdoors, he likes to wear a long coat, a clothing item that once belonged to Mrs. Hudson, and Sherlock would never admit how much he loves the item. Indoors, he prefers black trousers, sneakers and sharp shirts, basically all the dark and purple stuff he finds at cheap stores and charity stores.

  
Sherlock likes Mrs. Hudson and Molly, he likes the two cats, he likes coffee with sugar, he likes chemistry and solving crimes from the newspaper but most of all, he loves the bookstore. This is where he can roam every day for new treasures and where he can talk about books without anyone getting annoyed about it. It is practical that Sherlock reads everything, from _Fingersmith_ by Sarah Waters to _Carry On_ by Rainbow Rowell to _The Fifth Season_ by N.K Jemisin. He even likes the monthly Trivia Games.

  
He spends most of the hours on Mrs. Hudson’s sofa with his head buried in his book. Other people his age are going to parties, travelling to distant places, Molly is meeting her friends almost every day outside of University. It is another thing Sherlock doesn’t want to admit, but making friends has never been easy for him, and as a consequence, he is lonely.

  
Today is the twenty-third of December, and the crowd at Baker Street is busy with finishing their chores before the stressful holidays. Hundreds of people have walked by him, holding their bags in one hand and dragging their screaming children behind them with the other. Even fewer people than usual have acknowledged Sherlock and his music, and therefore he has ended up with fewer coins than normal in his violin bag.

Which is unfortunate.

At night, Sherlock dreams of renting out the small flat next to Mrs. Hudson, which she owns. For that, he would require a flatmate though, and he has no means of meeting anyone of interest, not that finding friends ever came easy to him. When he was a child, he nagged his older brother into joining him on their fantasy pirate ship, and Mycroft begrudgingly obliged.

This of course ended when the four Holmes drove to their first summer holiday, and Mycroft drowned in the sea.

This was a long time ago.

Sherlock allows his aching arms to sink down, and slowly begins to fumble with the coins. It is difficult with his frozen fingers, and he curses wildly when he drops his only bank note - five pounds, donated by a father and his daughter, the holiday a gift for her eighteenth birthday- and the five pounds flatter away, close to the full street…

  
“Hey!“ A voice exclaims, and a young man, maybe two or three years older than him, with blond hair and a green jacket, jumps up and catches the note before it disappears in the streets of London forever. The young man approaches him and hands over the blue note to a gaping Sherlock.

  
“Thank you.“ Sherlock stutters and quickly puts the note into his old black purse, before another accident can occur.

  
“I’m sorry to miss hearing you play today.“ The young man continues talking to Sherlock surprisingly. He explains when he notices Sherlock’s confused expression.

  
“I listen to your music almost every day, whenever I go to my job at Starbucks another street away, but I am always in a hurry, so I never get the chance to hear a full song from you.”

  
Sherlock nods: “Usually, people are more willing to give money during Christmas time, so I was running extra hours the last weeks.“

  
“Not today, though.“ The young man throws in, pointing at Sherlock’s not even half-filled purse.

Sherlock shrugs: “It was a bad day.“ At least he now had enough to buy a present for Mrs. Hudson, probably a good whiskey.

“Listen, uhm.“ The other man is scratching his head nervously and interrupts Sherlock’s thoughts. Sherlock stares at him in wonder. It is most unusual that someone wants to voluntarily communicate with a person on the street.

  
“Do you have somewhere to go? Somewhere warm?“ The man asks shyly, looking at him through his eyelashes.

“Yes, I’m living on a couch at a friend.“ Sherlock says quickly. “Not far from here, at Mrs. Hudson’s bookstore.“ It is certainly not wise to tell so much private information to a stranger, but the genuine concern from this person warms Sherlock’s heart.

  
“Oh, I have walked by it a few times, but I never had the chance to visit.“ The young man says.

  
“You definitely should, it is a lovely place. Especially at Christmas.“ Sherlock says, then offers his hand, surprised at his own confidence.

  
“I am Sherlock.“ He says, the name sounding weird in his own mouth. It has been a while since he last introduced himself to someone new. Molly and Mrs. Hudson have known him for a while, after all.

  
“My name is John Watson.“ John Watson says and shakes Sherlock’s hand. John’s hand is warm, used to work and strong. John steps a bit closer, so passers-by will not be in danger of running into his broad shoulders any more.

  
“You are a student, probably medical.“ The words slip out of Sherlock’s mouth, and he wishes he could force them back in. People do not appreciate his unwanted deductions, which he has learned this the hard way during his time as a homeless.

  
John’s eyes go wide with surprise: “How do you know? Did you follow me on one day?“ He asks.

  
Sherlock is quick to shake his head. The last thing he wants is to be considered a stalker: “No, I deduced it.“

  
“How does it work?“

  
“You are a struggling student, I can see your student ID clipped onto your trousers. You are struggling with the money, therefore you work part-time at Starbucks, picking up extra and unpopular shifts during December to earn more money. As with the medical training, it was a lucky guess, your reaction confirmed my idea. Your hands are dry from all the washing and disinfecting at the hospital. Furthermore, you are helping me, a person the majority prefers to ignore and actually continuing to converse with me displays your caring and helpful character.“

  
Sherlock closes his eyes and waits for the punch that will no doubt explode any second in his face.

  
“Amazing.“ John breathes out, and Sherlock’s eyes fly open.

  
“Sorry, what?“

  
“That is amazing, how you notice all that. Can you do that with everyone?“

  
“More or less.“

  
“Amazing.“ John repeats.

  
“Are you aware that you are saying it out loud?“ Sherlock says and tries desperately to hide his big smile.

  
“Not going to apologize for that.“ John grins.

  
The smile lights a brilliant idea in Sherlock’s head. Mad, but brilliant, but why not try it?

  
“There is a trivia quiz tonight at the bookstore, if you are interested in what my colleague calls ‚pop culture‘ knowledge. Mrs. Hudson is baking cake, and we have bought chocolate and mulled wine all week. It will be the perfect opportunity to visit the bookstore in all its glory. You can bring your friends, if you like.“ Sherlock spills out, feeling his entire face turn red.

  
“Wow…“ John breathes out. “You know what, I don’t have anything on my schedule, university is done for this year too, and this sounds smashing. When do you guys start?“

  
“At seven o’clock.“ Sherlock says, his relief at John accepting his invitation almost visible. “You can bring your girlfriend, or other people you know from your classes. The more the merrier.“ He is repeating Mrs. Hudson’s mantra (these trivia quiz are a great advertisement for the bookstore, which desperately needs new customers), but secretly hopes John will not bring a friend, and most definitely not a girlfriend or boyfriend.  
  


“I do not think anyone is free tonight. Or do I need to bring my own team for the quiz?“ John inquires.

  
“No, but we could be a team, if you want.“ Sherlock offers tenderly.

  
“I hope you have watched every single James Bond, Marvel and Stars Wars film, then. I want to win.“ John laughs at Sherlock’s perplexed expression. The medical student shoulders his bag again and starts making his way through the hurrying crowd.

  
“I have not seen a single one!“ Sherlock shouts, and he can still hear John’s laughter through the crowd.

* * *

  
“Hello Sherlock, there you are. Mrs. Hudson was afraid you were frozen to the pavement.“ Molly greets him at the door, and Sherlock is relieved to notice so many customers at the bookstore. Bad day for his violin playing, good day for the store. He can live with that.

  
Mrs. Hudson is working at the busy counter of the small café, serving customers their teas, hot chocolates and strawberry muffins. She winks at him and drags a cup of steaming coffee into his direction. Sherlock thanks her, takes the hot cup carefully and walks with Molly to the shelves at the end of the store.

  
“Mrs. Hudson wants us to decorate the store for our trivia quiz tonight.“ The young student explains, pointing at two full boxes of Christmas lights.

  
Sherlock groans: “More decorations! You can barely see the books through all of this.“ He gesticulates wildly through the room. Nevertheless, the two start to sort through the huge piles. Molly throws two more strings around the shelves, why Sherlock drags the kitchen table from Mrs. Hudson’s living rooms to the store.

  
Mrs. Hudson arrives, carrying a red box, which is traditionally filled with their trivia quiz questions. “And no peeking.“ She says, and places the box on the table. “Sherlock, when we close the store I want you to carry the chairs from the café to this room.“

  
“Will we need so many chairs?“ Molly asks.

  
“Let’s be optimistic.“ Mrs. Hudson answers.

  
“I actually invited someone, a medical student who says he likes my music.“ Sherlock says nonchalantly, while pouring Mrs. Hudson’s freshly baked Christmas biscuits into a fingerprinted blue bowl.

  
The other two women gasp in surprise.

  
“Really, what is his name?“ Molly asks, wringing her hands with excitement. Their genuine joy for him touches Sherlock.

  
“John Watson, works at Starbucks, lives in a flat share and studies medical training at St. Barts.“

  
Molly claps her hands together: “I do know him! One of my friends used to drag me to his old workplace — a Pret A Manger — all the time, so she could see him.“

  
“Oh…“ Sherlock says quietly, his heart sinking. Of course, a handsome, talented and kind student like John Watson would have many admirers. Sherlock did not have a chance at all!

  
“Don’t worry, he is single now. Rumours is that his last girlfriend, Mary I think, cheated on him during the summer.“

  
“I’m not worried.“ Sherlock stutters, busying himself with the biscuits to hide his relieved expression.

  
“Sherlock, can you help me out at the counter?“ Mrs. Hudson’s request saved him from any more inquiries, since Molly looked ready to burst with questions.

  
A few people are waiting at the counter, clutching their books, and Sherlock quickly opens the cash register.

  
“Hello Sir.“ He says, and takes the cash. The man is buying the first book of this dreadful _Fifty Shades of Grey_ books for his mistress. Sherlock considers if he should warn the man that the BDSM in this book is not correctly portrayed at all and that the mistress will throw him out for trying (and rightly so), but decides against it. He does not want to give Mrs. Hudson the headache of dealing with another disgruntled customer.

The next two customers are grandmothers, buying their grandsons _How the Grinch stole Christmas_ from Dr. Seuss, together with a Grinch toy.  
The series of buying customers thankfully does not really stop until Mrs. Hudson closes the bookstore. Molly hangs the sign announcing the Trivia Game to the door, and the three are left waiting for any volunteers.

  
Fortunately, a few participants arrive. Molly welcomes her two friends from university, Tom and Stella Hopkins with open arms. Next up is Mrs. Turner, Mrs. Hudson’s neighbour, bringing her two married tenants, Finn and Isaac. Mrs. Turner is greeted with applause, as she is bringing her famous apple pie, and into the chaos three young men step in.

  
John’s eyes wander through the full room until they land on Sherlock, and the two wink at each other. His companion to the left is around their age, and he is already showing some grey hairs, which only makes him look more distinguished. The other student is smaller than the other two, with brown hair, wearing glasses and a friendly, round face.

  
“I thought I would bring a few more players, and surprisingly, these two did not have anything else to do, one day before Christmas Eve.“ John says, pointing at the other two.

  
“You mean it is Christmas Eve Eve!“ Stella shouts, and Sherlock must have missed the joke because everyone else is laughing.

  
“I will show you Friends over the holidays.“ Mrs. Hudson whispers to Sherlock as she whisks past to shake John’s hand.

  
“You must be John Watson! Sherlock told us all about you.“ She twitters happily.

  
“Did he?“ John asks amused and raises his eyebrows at Sherlock, who shakes his head, feeling mortified. He did not expect the full power of Mrs. Hudson throwing herself at the first boy he has met in years, but in hindsight, he really should have.

  
“This is Greg Lestrade, and Mike Stamford.“ John introduces the two newcomers.

  
“When we heard John Watson being so flustered, of course we had to come.“ Lestrade says, and Molly breaks out in a giggling fit. What a betrayal.

  
“Alright everybody, settle down, we don’t have all night.“ Mrs. Hudson announces. “We need groups of two, and someone who reads the questions out loud and who checks if everyone is playing fairly. Absolutely no cheating allowed, so please put your phones into this box.“ She rattles with the box on which Molly has painted sad-looking phones.

  
“I did not expect the rules to be so tough here.“ John says, who has suddenly appeared behind Sherlock.

  
“Mrs. Hudson takes trivia nights very seriously.“ Sherlock replies cheekily.

  
“So, do you want to be a team? With me, I mean.“ John asks, and Sherlock nods (hopefully not too enthusiastically).

  
“Of course.“ The other groups have formed as well, with Mike Stamford helpfully volunteering to be the game master. Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner are the first team, Finn and Isaac the second, Tom and Stella the third, Molly and Lestrade the fourth, and Sherlock and John finally the fifth team. All the other seats are taken, so Sherlock and John have to squeeze themselves into one of the soft armchair. Anne Boleyn jumps into Sherlock’s lap and curls herself into a tight ball of fluff.

“Does everyone have a piece of paper and a pen? Good. We will start with politics.“ Mike Stamford says, drawing groans all over the room. “I know, not a very popular category, but we save the better categories for last.“

  
“Can you write down the answers? I am afraid my handwriting has turned into a doctor before I did.“ John says laughing, and Sherlock accepts the pen.

“Listen carefully, everyone, here is the first question: “What is the name of the official Chief Mouser to the Cabinet Office at Downing Street 10?“

Sherlock and John somehow work themselves through five questions of politics (“Who knows anything about Brexit anyway?“), six questions about world news (“I did not know Japan even had an emperor.“ — “How nice that monarchs from other countries can step down when the time is ready.“) and four question about sports (“Is that the team who has the angry coach?”).  


They take a break for biscuits and mulled wine after that, and Sherlock discovers that John has an older sister called Harry, who studies law, and that his parents are divorced. Sherlock tells him about his hundred variations of different ashes he has found, and the blonde shows great interest. Sitting next to them are Molly and Lestrade, and whenever Sherlock shortly directs his attention from John, who is endlessly fascinating, he notices them either whispering to each other dramatically or giggling. How childish of them.  


  
“Our next category is Science and Discovery.“ Mike announces, and Sherlock beams at John. „Perfect, this is my category.“  


  
Fortunately, the answers were fairly easy (at least for Sherlock), and they win a round of points while everyone else groans, though Sherlock fails miserably at the Astronomy Question (“Why is it so interesting that another nation landed on the moon?“).  


  
It is close to nine when Mike finally gets out the cards everyone has been eagerly waiting for: “Pop Culture knowledge next! Which actor will star in James Bond: No Time to Die, who has recently won an Academy Award for Best Actor?“  


  
“I know this one!“ John whispers, and Sherlock scrawls his suggested answer down. He has no idea who that is, but John promises him to show him the awarded film, so that is something nice to look forward to.  


  
“Next question, what was so special about these years Man Booker Awards?“ Mike asks, and everyone who works at the bookstore cheers. The Man Booker Nominations always deserve a special place on their shelves, and Sherlock knows the answer to this question as well.  


  
“What popular singer released the album called Fine Line this year?“  


  
Sherlock quickly scribbles this down. John raises his eyebrows, interested.  


  
“I thought you would only listen to classical music.“  


  
“Mrs. Hudson owns a radio, and the two women insist on listening to this drivel.“  


  
“Sure…“ John says.  


  
“Which TV show achieved the most Emmy nomination this year?“  


  
Everyone knows the answer to this one, though nobody writes down the answer happily.  


  
“The Biggest disappointment of the year.“ John grumbles quietly.  


  
“The books are always better.“ Sherlock says reassuringly, and dares to clasp John’s shoulders comfortingly.  
  


“And the last question for tonights Trivia Game: What was the most-sold book of 2018?“  


When the two young men hand in their page, they feel like they have done everything they could. Mike gets all the other papers and quickly looks through with the help of Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner, who had to vow to the others not to cheat. The others walk around the room, chatting happily with each other. Tom shows great interest in the displayed cookbooks, and Molly and Greg have disappeared behind the counter and giggle at their phone. She is probably showing him the picture of a dog dressed as Paddington Bear.  


  
“So, what are you doing when you are not working?“ John asks, nibbling on Mrs. Hudson biscuits. Anne Boleyn does a big stretch on Sherlock’s lap, turns three times and slumps down again.  


  
Sherlock shrugs with his shoulders: “I read, mostly. It is paramount to be able to talk at least a bit about every book that is in the store and beyond that, should an interested customer ask for it.“  


  
“Alright, and beyond reading?”  


  
Sherlock hesitates, then decides to just go with it. On Christmas you tell the truth, his mother used to say, when she still talked to him. Additionally, John deserved the truth, before anything further could develop before him. Furthermore, the presence of the books and John’s undivided attention has given him confidence.  


  
“I visit a Former Drug Addiction Support Group once a week. I was addicted to cocaine and heroin, and for about two years, I lived on the streets. Now, I camp on Mrs. Hudson’s sofa in the living room and try to get my life back together.”  


  
Sherlock actually expects John to look disgusted with him, leave their shared seat and go. Instead, the medical student does not seem shocked.  


  
“You should be proud of yourself.” John says suddenly instead, and Sherlock’s head wipes around: “What?”  


  
“At work, I encounter addicts weekly, and it is sometimes unbearable to watch them fall through the holes of the system, most of them fail multiple times, but you made it.”  


  
“Only with Mrs. Hudson’s help.” Sherlock says, slightly blushing. Nobody, aside from Hudders and Molly of course, ever told him that he accomplished a good thing. He has not heard from his parents in years, the two older Holmes so focused on grieving their oldest son that they somehow forgot about their younger. No wonder John understands the difficulties of addiction, with his alcoholic sister. Best not to mention that, though.  


  
“Mrs. Hudson is a Saint.”  


  
“Putting up with me? She is the holiest of Saints.”  


  
The two share another biscuit, while Anne Boleyn demands more cuddling. Sherlock happily obliges.  


  
“Settle down for the results, everyone! We have counted the results.” Mrs. Turner shouts, and the others fall back to their seats.  


  
“What do we win anyway?” Tom asks.  


  
“You can take the rest of the biscuits home.”  


  
“Great.”  


  
Mike Stamford clears his throat: “Third place goes to… Molly and Greg!”  


  
Everyone cheers for the team. Lestrade gets up and bows to the audience, as if this were the Oscars. Molly curtsies, and Lestrade takes her hand and waves.  


  
“Second place… Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner!” The women do something weird with their hands, a gesture which Sherlock does not understand. John only has the time to tell him that this gesture is called a dab, when Mike calls for silence again.  


  
“Drum rolls please for our lucky number one… Sherlock and John!”  


  
Sherlock and John jump up (mindful of Anne Boleyn) and rejoice. Molly throws pieces of popcorn at him, and Sherlock surprises himself by giving John a hug, and to his relief, the other man returns the hug. John’s arms feel wonderful around Sherlock’s chest, and the feeling of Christmas can be heard loud and clear in Sherlock’s ear.  


* * *

  
The other guests have already left. Mrs. Turner was accompanied by her married tenants and a bottle of expensive sherry as an early Christmas present from Mrs. Hudson. Lestrade promised to bring Molly to the Baker Street Tube Station, but Sherlock suspected a spontaneous sleep-over happening there. Whether he wanted it or not, Molly would tell them everything in the morning, when they open the bookstore for the last four hours before the Christmas Holidays.  


  
Mrs. Hudson is washing up in the kitchen, and Sherlock and John, who voluntarily offered to stay a bit longer, are cleaning up the bookstore.  


  
“Any plans for the holidays?” Sherlock asks him.  


  
“I am free for two weeks, thank god. I can finally sleep longer than five o’clock and actually cook something instead of shovelling instant ramen. On Christmas Day I visit my mother and sister in the suburbs, but the rest of the time, I am free.”  


  
Was that an indirect invitation? Sherlock decides to take it as such.  


  
“You must visit the bookstore at daylight, after Christmas, when it is not so crowded any more.”  


  
“I will definitely take you up on that offer. Will you be there?”  


  
Sherlock smiles: “I will.”  


  
They finish putting all the chairs back to their usual position, and Sherlock offers John the packed biscuits.  


  
“As a snack for the tube.” Sherlock says.  


  
“Christ, they are delicious. I hope no dove will fight me for them.”  


  
“Just hold them close to your body like a shield and you will be fine.”  


  
John hesitates at the door for a moment: “You know what… I never actually heard your whole song.”  


  
“Which one? I play several.”  


  
John grins: “It is slow, and, you know, sad? It sounded German.”  


  
Sherlock laughs: “Do you not prefer something more upbeat?” He sprints through the joined door to Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen, where she has just finished the plates. Sherlock ignores her question and runs back to Speedy’s, where John is thankfully still waiting for him.  


  
“I will serenade you home.” Sherlock offers, and positions himself in the open door. He raises his bow, closes his eyes to concentrate better and plays the first tune.  


  
He is still at the first verse of We wish you a Merry Christmas, when he feels a soft kiss on his left cheek. John whispers a quiet “See you.” into his ear, and Sherlock does not hide his smile.  


  
He hears John’s feet going into the distance, and Sherlock’s music follows him home.

**Author's Note:**

> Christmas is over, but I hope you still have fun reading this little fanfic. I wish you a Happy New Year!


End file.
